Page 45 of Obsessed Heir

The basket is a nice touch. I’ll have to thank James for that later. Just then, I catch sight of the table I had brought in and amreminded I have company. My shoulders sag. How could I have forgotten?

I step around the couch and backtrack, continuing to Mother’s room. Taking a bite of the apple, I knock and wait, but there’s no answer. Could she be taking a nap?

I check my watch. I hadn’t expected to sleep in so late, but with everything that happened, I didn’t leave the club until nearly seven. Add that to the restless night before, I crashed hard once I finally went to bed.

Turning my attention to the next door, I’m hit with a flash of annoyance. Abigail’s room. Could she and Mother be in there together? Of course she’d be there, chatting with the daughter she never had.

I stride over to Abigail’s door and give two sharp knocks, but again, there’s no response.

Disappointment washes through me, and I’m not entirely sure why. Is it because they’re not here or because Abigail didn’t answer? I stare at the door for a few seconds before catching myself, and my absurd reaction.

Without a second thought, I turn the knob, open the door, and step in. As expected, the room is empty. Still, I continue into her space, leaving the door open behind me.

The damn backpack that started all this mess is sitting on the floor next to the custom nightstand while the laptop sits on top. The complimentary robe Holly insisted on is draped across the foot of the bed.

No matter how much I try talking to Mother about being careful, about keeping people at arm’s length, she doesn’t want to hear it. Look at what Abigail managed to accomplish. Did she even consider the consequences of her actions?

I lower myself to sit on the bed and glance around. She’s hidden every other item away, leaving the room practicallyimmaculate. If not for the slight dent in the pillow, I’d have assumed she didn’t sleep here.

Or did she? The last time I saw her here, she was moving into the room with my mother. So, why did she come set up in here?

I stretch out on the bed. Taking another bite of the apple, I try to imagine myself in her place. She has a full ride in terms of education. I made sure of that. Yet she’s come back to live at home, running around in a new car my mother bought her.

If I were a little gold digger, what would I be up to?

I close my eyes, surrounding myself in her world. The first thing to find me is the scent of her shampoo lingering on the pillowcase. I turn, breathing deep. She showered earlier, so there’s no telling—the image of her taking off that robe takes center stage in my mind.

Curves. Bare, damp skin. An ass that makes you want to…

My cock stirs with unexpected interest.

Fuck.

I shoot up to a sitting position, alarm coursing through me.

What the fuck was that?

I shouldn’t be thinking about her in this manner. I’ve spent the past several years resenting her. And now she’s taking advantage of my mother.

So then, why am I imagining her naked? Why does the thought of caressing her skin make me hard? Why does the mere sight of that damn robe make me hard?

But even as the question crosses my mind, I’m reminded of how Abigail looked when she was moving through the shopping area yesterday. Curves in all the right places, long flowing hair. Her expression changing from embarrassment to defiance and back when she faced me.

The robe catches my eye again.

Trouble…nothing but trouble.

Time to go. I push myself off the mattress and stride out of the room, Abigail’s image growing stronger in my mind with every damned step.Utterly stupid.

But what if I’m wrong?

I’m not.

I’ll check with Holly to see if she knows where they are. I might be able to meet up with them—her and my mother—if they’re out for a late lunch.

Just then, the door to the suite opens. I lengthen my stride, expecting to see them returning. Instead, I find James coming in, a garment bag draped over his arm.

“I’ll be right there,” James says into his phone then ends the call. “Good afternoon, Mr. Barron.” He greets me with the usual respectful bow of his head as he walks behind the couch.

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